Monday, November 20, 2006

Brief Encounter

It was the first day in weeks without a pressing deadline looming. Dolores had taken the sock yarn down to the Art Institute for the Charles Sheeler exhibit. The laundry was finished, the dishes clean, and no visitors were expected. I poured a tall glass of milk, neat, and curled up on the sofa under an old plaid blanket and cracked open a fresh new arrival, Cecil Beaton's unexpurgated diaries.

"Ahem," said the Spinning Wheel.

I dropped the book and covered my eyes with my hands, uttering an oath unfit for delicate ears.

"Well, excuse me for breathing," said the Spinning Wheel.

"Would it be too much to ask," I sighed, "for one lousy day free of Magic Realism?"

"I just work here," said the Spinning Wheel. "Or rather, I just sit here, which is the root of the matter."

"Maybe you could go complain to the vacuum cleaner. He doesn't get out enough either."

"So I've noticed," said the Wheel. "But I do not wish to discuss the state of your housekeeping. Instead, pray observe my bobbin." It walked over to the sofa and leaned forward. "You will notice, please, that the red leader is still visible. This is the same red leader tied upon the bobbin by Mr. Ted Myatt when he visited."

"Yeah? So?"

"Mr. Myatt's memorable stay took place in high summer. If you will look outside, you will notice the trees are bare of leaves and the wind blows cold. Summer is but a memory. Fall is more than half-spent. The Feast of Saint Lucy fast approaches."

"You want me to make cookies?"

"I want to you realize that since I had the all-too-brief pleasure of being oiled and caressed by Mr. Myatt's capable hands, I've sat here untouched and untreadled. You have well-nigh twenty pounds of lovely roving and top sitting in a storage bin, and yet I am less regarded than the magazine rack in the bathroom."

"What has the magazine rack been telling you?"

"Don't change the subject," said the Wheel, sternly. "Are you ever going to use me again, or are you not?"

"Well, you know, it's been so busy at work and there was the Knit-In and everything, and–"

"Prevarication ill becomes you."

"I'll spin a little bit tonight."

"Tonight won't do. I think I've waited long enough. Either you show me some attention right this minute, or I'm reporting you to Merike Saarnit."

"Just let me finish this chapter."

"Do you want me to put this orifice hook to uses never intended by the nice people at Ashford?"

"Fine, okay, swell, whatever, let me go get some roving." I heaved myself off the sofa and headed for the bedroom closet.

"I want the merino from Rabbitch!" screamed the Wheel. "Don't even come near me with that cheap mixed-breed shit you got free from eBay."

I remember sitting down with the merino, and giving the treadle a tentative push. And then things began to spin, faster and faster. The room blurred. Dizziness struck, hard. I felt as though I were falling...spinning...downward...as the Wheel whined for more...more...more...

I blacked out.

And then all at once I woke up with a start, flat on my back in bed. Dolores and Harry were bending over me as my eyes fluttered open.

"He's alive!" shouted Harry.

"Oh, thank goodness," I sighed. "Dolores, I had the most ridiculous dream. The spinning wheel...it...came to life...it was...talking..."

"Totally whacked, man" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Dolores. "That's a good one. You musta had something spicy for lunch again, right?"

"That must be it," I agreed.

"You'll never learn. I'll go fetch the Peptol Bismol," she said. "You go put your feet up and Harry will get you a hot water bottle."

We should get your spinning wheel and my spinning wheel together to see if they make little Babe spinning wheels. Maybe it'll keep them occupied enough to quit yelling at us. Mine is expressing extreme jealousy about the many knitting projects I have for christmas. I've promised to spend the entire month of Jan with it, if it'll just leave me alone until the sweaters and the hats are done.

My Haldane is only keeping quiet because the book I'm trying to read right now is titled Spinning Wheels, Spinners and Spinning. Too much longer away from her though and I'm afraid I shall receive a tongue lashing of a manner only a Scot is capable of.

That's mighty fine work considering you've been away from the wheel for so long, sir.

my spinning wheel is rebelling against me, apparently i've been neglecting it. i'm trying to spin some laceweight, a nd while it went great the first time i sat down, when i sat down yesterday, it kept breaking, argh!

We never did mention that the wheel can get a bit..cranky, shall we say...if we neglect them too long or too often. On the other hand, the roving can get a bit resentful as well but you had them in bins so no wonder you didn't hear them.

With St. Lucy fast approaching you are most fortunate the Wheel didn't expect you to light your hair on fire. But again, that is for the "youngest" daughter of the house, and Dolores doesn't make the cut.

ROFLMAO! And the comments, oh dear. Lovely, lovely singles. Any ideas what it'll be for yet? ::ducking::

You know, I was just looking over one of my wheels last night, also majorly neglected. I've got you beat by years, Franklin; years. I repeat. Years. But it didn't say one solitary thing to me. Now I'm afraid. What could it possibly be planning? I don't even want to think about the one that's been hidden in my closet. Oh...my...god. ::faintly:: I just thought of the looms. Can knitting needles survive defenestration by other fiber equipment?

well i knew i should have explaine my comment. . . i thought glamuqt was funny because it read 'glam, you cutie' as though i were commenting on . . . how glamorous some cutie was. . . or something. and i wasn't drinking while commenting becaused i learned to never a) blog drunk or b) read this blog with liquids in my mouth lest they end up all over the monitor.

My Majacraft Suzie resides in a lovely quilted bag. Muffles the screams for attention. When she gets too rambunctious, I tell her Buster will chew off her drive band again and other things if she doesn't behave.

And I was beginning to think that Delores didn't have your best interests at heart...it's good to see the softer sider of her, although I do quite like her wicked witticisms. Happy turkey day to you, or tofu or whatever it is that Buddhists eat on Thanksgiving Day.

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